The Shadow Festival. It’s definitely a weird time of the day.

  Sys suddenly wore a strange mask as he began to speak in a voice like he was telling a scary story at a sleepover.

  The Shadow Festival begins at sunset. One moment the city is basking in golden evening light, merchants smiling politely and pretending they aren’t judging you for haggling over two coins. The next moment, the sun drops below the horizon like it’s clocking out early, and the city collectively decides it’s time to get crazy.

  And that’s when the lanterns come out.

  I lowered my head when a hanging lantern came out of nowhere.

  Not one or two, but all of them. Every street, alley, balcony, stall, rooftop, and suspiciously convenient hook suddenly blooms with glowing light. Lanterns flare to life in waves, brighter than they have any right to be, painting the city in warm golds, eerie purples, and the occasional unsettling green.

  Sys then touched his mask.

  And that’s when the masks get shown.

  I looked around as everyone I could see began pulling out masks and wearing them. There were masks of animals like birds, horses, bears, and monsters like orcs, dragons, and goblins. Everywhere you looked, someone was wearing a mask.

  But why is this the case? Sys asked out loud in a very annoyingly dramatic tone. Why are these people wearing such unconventional articles of clothing?

  He then raised a finger.

  Because this is the time of chaos.

  Think Halloween, but without the pretense that it’s “for the kids.” Masks are mandatory, and not polite little half-masks either, but full, expressive, sometimes unsettling ones. Laughing demons. Grinning animals. Faces with too many eyes. Faces with no eyes. You think of it, someone’s probably wearing it.

  And once masked, some people sing. Loudly. Very off-key. In groups that were never rehearsed and clearly never should be. Dancing breaks out in the streets, while being less choreographed and more “my body has decided this is happening now.”

  Look over there. There’s a shirtless dude swinging his hair around. And over there’s a…….nevermind. Let’s keep moving.

  The usual rules of refinement quietly pack their bags and leave town.

  During the main festival, people walk carefully, speak politely, enjoying the festival in their usual refined manner. During the Shadow Festival, they abandon that entirely. This is the After Dark portion. The city’s official “we warned you” window. The social equivalent of rolling up your sleeves and saying, “Alright, let’s get this out of our system.”

  Within legality, mostly anything goes. Costumed crowds weave through the streets like living confetti. Strangers dance together for three minutes and then vanish forever. Vendors sell food of questionable origin and even more questionable texture. Laughter echoes from everywhere, sometimes followed by the unmistakable sound of something breaking and someone yelling, “I meant to do that!”

  It’s like the graveyard shift at a store, when all the weirdos come out, but the weirdos are everyone. Over there, a robed lady is suddenly chanting with her hand on a kid’s head. The golem behind is juggling some balls while a large group of kids cheer him on. A guy dressed in some very expensive clothing is now arguing passionately with a man in a frog mask about whether soup counts as a drink.

  It does by the way.

  And by morning?

  Everyone pretends none of it happened.

  A lot of crazy things happen. Even though the masks don’t really cover much, the whole energy and vibes of it can make one do wild things.

  Sys then shrugged.

  Even then, it’s just a time meant for wild and goofy things. It’s always been another form of entertainment for everyone. Still, be careful.

  Men with goblin masks did some tribal looking dance while hooting and hollering, a few kids with dragon masks spread their arms out as they zoomed past the shops and legs of everyone, and a few guys with boar masks tried to make an actual triangle of themselves while lifting each other up.

  Since I felt a bit out of place, I quietly snuck around and found a wolf mask left on a bench.

  Sys noticed that I hesitated upon grabbing it.

  Why aren’t you wearing it?

  “It’s a wolf mask. Don’t you know how corny that is?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  It’s just a mask. Wear it.

  I sighed and eventually put it on.

  It smelled a bit funny, but I doubted anyone would notice.

  A lot of crazy things can happen here. Even though the masks don’t really hide much, the energy—the vibe of the whole place—has a way of getting under your skin, pushing people into doing wild, ridiculous things they probably will never try otherwise.

  Sys then shrugged.

  Even then, it’s just a time meant for wild and goofy stuff. It’s always been another form of entertainment for everyone. His tone dipped slightly. Still, be careful.

  Around us, the chaos continued. A group of men wearing goblin masks stomped in a loose circle, performing something that vaguely resembled a tribal dance I saw back when I raided the snarl. Nearby, a handful of kids in bright dragon masks spread their arms like wings and zoomed through the narrow paths between shops. Off to the side, a few guys in bulky boar masks grunted and argued as they tried, and repeatedly failed, to stack themselves into a proper triangle, lifting one another up with strained laughter and shaking knees.

  It was loud and messy.

  Watching it all unfold, I felt just a bit out of place.

  So, while no one was watching, I slipped away from the center of the crowd and wandered toward a quieter edge of the street, where I spotted a lone wolf mask resting on a wooden bench.

  I picked it up slowly and hesitantly.

  Sys noticed immediately.

  Why aren’t you wearing it?

  I glanced down at the mask, turning it over in my hands. “It’s a wolf mask,” I said flatly. “Don’t you know how corny that is?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  It’s just a mask. Wear it.

  After a moment of hesitation, I raised the mask and slipped it over my face.

  I instantly noticed the odd smell. But I figured no one would notice.

  After all, no one was really paying attention to who anyone was beneath the mask anymore.

  Through the narrow eyeholes of my mask, I tried to force my way through the swarm of crazed villagers, my steps slowing as shock piled upon shock at every staggering display around me.

  Above me, a woman in a pristine swan mask glided across a wire stretched impossibly thin between rooftops. Her arms extended like wings, her balance effortless, every step deliberate and serene, just like a masterful ballerina.

  Below, a cluster of performers wearing slick, translucent slime masks fumbled and laughed as they linked their arms together, pressing close until they formed a wobbling circle—an awkward yet convincing imitation of some massive, living blob.

  Then I saw a shirtless man in a snarling lion mask slamming his fists against his chest, the sound echoing through the street like a drumbeat. With a roar that felt more beast-like than man, he leapt forward and hurled himself through a gauntlet of blazing rings. Flame licked at his skin as he twisted and landed, unscathed. What really surprised me was how I felt no magic being used. That was all him.

  And through it all, I began to notice the crowd. The spectators weren’t just watching. Families stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers, lone figures leaned against walls, and children tugged at their parents’ hands. Every face was hidden behind a mask—some unique, some identical—creatures, monsters, animals of every kind imaginable. Despite the differences, they all shared the same reaction.

  They smiled, cheered, and reveled in it.

  Sometimes, they stepped forward and joined the spectacle themselves, laughter and movement blurring the line between performer and audience. At that moment, it became clear to me. We weren’t just observing something extraordinary.

  We were all part of it.

  So, how is it?

  “It’s……..crazy.”

  That was all I could really come up with.

  If my memory serves me right, the Shadow Festival is a form of remembrance and reverence for the old times.

  “The old times?”

  Do you remember that history lesson you slept through?

  “Oh, you mean the one where you used A.I. to make a summary on?”

  Sys cleared his throat.

  Before the gift of magic, as you already know, humans lived primitively. Survival came first, and thought came second. But once communities began to form, that so-called barbaric nature was slowly forgotten, buried beneath cooperation and structure. Unknown, seeing this shift, came to believe that humans were finally ready to receive his gift.

  “I thought he just thought the world was boring?” I asked.

  That’s just a theory. Sys replied without missing a beat. No one really knows why he did it. But the Shadow Festival exists because of the theory I’m telling you about.

  Then who even came up with that theory?

  Anyway, humanity became thankful for the gift, very thankful for it. They were so thankful that they poured everything they had into advancement. They pursued law and order, larger, stronger communities, basically civilization itself. And through all of it, they praised Unknown and the other gods for blessing them.

  As Sys spoke, bright flashes of light suddenly tore across the night sky, blooming and vanishing in rapid succession.

  “Are those fireworks?” I asked, craning my neck upward.

  Combustion Magic. Gotta be Corven.

  Sys then turned back to me.

  Oh yeah. Even though humans focused on the future, they didn’t want to erase their past. They didn’t want to forget the ones who lived before them. So they decided to thank them by remembering them.

  He gestured toward the streets, the masks, the chaos.

  And that’s how the Shadow Festival came to be.

  I looked around again, really looked this time.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  All of it—the masks, the noise, the reckless joy—felt almost savage. Not in cruelty, but in freedom. A remembrance of a time born from a simple desire: to do whatever you want, for entertainment and pleasure, without completely abandoning reason.

  A time before laws and restrictions.

  Before society decided what was acceptable.

  Before everything had a rule attached to it.

  It was an age where people didn’t obsess over the meaning of life or burden themselves with questions too large to answer. A time when humans didn’t assume they stood so far above the animals they lived beside.

  A reminder that we aren’t rulers of the world.

  Just specks on a small, pale dot, drifting together through the dark.

  “It’s not a bad idea.”

  Sys grinned.

  I know, right? It’s a great addition to the festival.

  As I stepped to the side as another kid ran past by, I had to admit it.

  While I didn’t particularly enjoy the circus or fairs back on Earth, this was………

  Pretty cool.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Since Corven made those fireworks around here, and my Soul Radar is telling me they’re here, they should be………Aha, there.

  Surrounded by a group of people like always, they were laughing as Corven fired yet another round of fireworks.

  Malo wore a broad bear mask, its carved muzzle frozen in a perpetual snarl. Kaelyn stood nearby with a sleek cat mask pulled snug over her face. Nyra’s owl mask sat calmly in place, wide-eyed and watchful. Mayern, by contrast, couldn’t seem to leave his alone. He kept fiddling with the straps of his chameleon mask. Corven lifted his deer mask just enough to free his mouth, murmuring under his breath as he prepared another spell, the faint shimmer of magic gathering at his fingertips.

  Off to the side, slightly removed from the rest of them, stood Noll. He wore a plain white mask—unadorned, expressionless, and strangely unsettling in its simplicity. Unlike the others, he didn’t adjust it or gesture or fidget. He simply stood there, watching the rest.

  But I wasn’t here for them. I was here for Zachary.

  And there he was, near the group of geniuses as he rambled on.

  Isn’t this going to be seriously awkward?

  Sys narrowed his eyes.

  You blew them off like an hour ago, and now you came back like nothing happened.

  “I’ll just talk to Zachary privately.”

  And how are you going to do that exactly?

  “Just wait.”

  He’d eventually be alone soon anyway.

  And why are you so sure?

  “Trust me.”

  I know.

  So, we waited.

  And waited………

  And waited.

  ……..And wai-

  Alright, you don’t have to clog up the page with all of that. Let me handle this…….beep. Boop. bop.

  “What the hell are you-”

  Timeskip.

  Woah, what was that?

  Focus. Zachary’s by himself now.

  “Oh, cool.”

  I don’t know what that was, but let’s roll with it.

  Like I had expected, Zachary was standing by himself now, just watching everything unfold.

  Where did the geniuses go?

  Probably to go have more fun, do what a group of friends do. Maybe even train now that they know their next matchups.

  Nothing that I should worry about.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I moved quickly, weaving my way through the crowd—past the spectators, past the laughing children, past scattered props, stalls, and half-forgotten decorations. By the time I stopped, I was standing just a few steps behind him.

  He hadn’t noticed me yet.

  “Zachary.”

  He turned, startled. I noticed the duck mask immediately. It was bright, almost stupidly cheerful.

  “Beric?” He lifted it partway to get a better look. “You’re back?” His expression flickered with confusion, but almost instinctively, he forced a smile. “Oh, did your special training go well?” He let the mask fall back into place and nudged me lightly in the shoulder. “I hear Rune’s your next opponent. You should be fine, considering you beat Malo. Still, extra training never hurts anybody.”

  I just stared at him.

  The smile faltered. He paused, then cleared his throat. “So, what can I do for you?” He hesitated, then added quickly, “Oh, and don’t worry. No one was offended by earlier. You’re okay.”

  “Rune,” I finally said.

  He stiffened.

  “Remember what I wanted if I won against Tao?”

  Zachary didn’t respond.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  His gaze shifted away, scanning the crowd as if suddenly worried about unseen ears. After a moment, he exhaled slowly.

  “……Follow me.”

  I followed him as he guided me through the sea of masked faces, laughter and music fading the farther we went. Eventually, we stopped near an empty stall tucked into a dim, secluded corner.

  “I don’t know if it’s really my place to be telling you this, but—” He turned to face me, then reached up and removed his mask. Guilt was written plainly across his face. “You did win. And I did promise.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “Beric……I know about Rune. About how he was a-” He hesitated. “A bully, if you will.”

  “He was,” I said.

  Zachary looked at me.

  I knew he could infer what I was implying.

  “......Regardless,” he said quietly, “before I tell you the rest, you need to know something. Things weren’t…….always like this.”

  He sighed.

  “You see, Beric—Rune and Arthur. Your brother. They used to be great friends.”

  I knew they’d been friends once, but—

  “Great friends?” I repeated.

  He cleared his throat again. After a brief pause, like he was weighing whether he should continue, he nodded. “I don’t know all the details. But back then, they were inseparable. Every village gathering, whenever I saw them, they were behind most of the pranks. They were a notorious duo whose pranks went for anybody.”

  “Weren’t you part of that?” I asked.

  A weak smile crossed his face. “Sometimes. They used to invite me along.” His eyes unfocused as memories surfaced. “They were good at it. Really good. Watching them pull things off, it was fun. And it felt nice to be included when they asked for help.”

  He rubbed his arm absently. “Once, I helped them let loose a massive flock of chickens into the streets.” A quiet breath of laughter escaped him. “They laughed their asses off watching everyone scramble to catch them.” He glanced back at me. “Maybe it doesn’t sound that funny anymore, but………I liked being part of something like that.”

  His breath hitched.

  “Sorry—uhm. Arthur and Rune. They-” His expression darkened. “They got into a fight. With Zin.”

  “Zin?” I asked.

  He nodded. “No one really knows how it started. It happened in one of the alleyways. Arthur managed to get away and find help.” His jaw tightened. “But Zin escaped, and of course, he used his power to blame it all on Rune.”

  Zachary exhaled slowly. “There wasn’t a huge punishment after that, but we all knew the truth. Zin had to have been the one to instigate that fight.” He looked down. “But, after that, Rune changed. He stopped pulling pranks with Arthur. He stopped hanging out with him.” His voice lowered. “And he started acting like a jerk.”

  He swallowed. “Like Zin.”

  ………..That’s it?

  They had some small fight with Zin, and that’s the supposed backstory for why Rune was such a massive dick? Of why he stopped being Arthur’s supposed “best friend”?

  No. There’s no way that’s it.

  But there’s no point in asking him anymore.

  “Thank you.” I said before turning away.

  Huh? Why are you leaving already?

  “That’s all he knows. If we want to know what actually happened, we’ll have to keep searching.”

  Sys didn’t look pleased.

  There you go with that again. What makes you so confident in all of this?

  “He’s one of them.”

  One of what?

  The ones with no real friends.

  The ones who try their hardest to be chummy with everyone—laughing a little louder, smiling a little wider, doing whatever it takes to carve their name into someone else’s memory. They cling to jokes, favors, stories, anything that might make them more than just another face in the crowd. They try so desperately to become more than an acquaintance that they push themselves too far, even when others call them out for it.

  Because it’s all they know how to do.

  They’re the ones you vaguely remember from high school. Not clearly, but just enough to recognize them in passing. You might walk by them in the hallway, give a small nod of acknowledgment, maybe even a polite smile, and then immediately turn back to your actual friends as you keep walking. You might notice, briefly, that they’re alone.

  But you don’t think much of it.

  After all, they’re friendly. They talk to everyone. You assume they must have plenty of friends already.

  But they don’t.

  They’re lonelier than you could ever imagine.

  Every single day, they force themselves into conversations that weren’t meant for them, timing their jokes just right, hoping someone laughs with them instead of at them. They strain to stand out, to be memorable, to leave even the faintest impression, anything that might make someone turn around afterward and say, “Hey, want to hang out?”

  They long for just one person to like them enough to stay.

  Just one person to see them as more than comic relief. More than background noise. More than the “funny one.”

  And they give up their time, dignity, effort, and themselves, just to make others smile.

  But no one ever does the same for them.

  And even in a world so crowded that you can bump shoulders with strangers just walking down the street, when they stumble into someone by accident, no one stops. No one looks twice. No one pays them any extra attention.

  They’re just another person passing by.

  And whether you realized it or not,

  You’ve passed them by too.

  Sys stared at me.

  ……….You mean, like a floater friend?

  “Yeah.”

  Couldn’t you just have said that rather than make a long ass monologue about it?

  “The chapter would be too short without it.”

  Ah, sure.

  He then turned back.

  Still, I don’t think you’re necessarily right.

  “No, I am.”

  It’s why he wasn’t there at first, sitting at the table with the others. It’s why he had to invite himself, to speak up, to insert himself into the moment and make sure he was noticed. It’s why he’s so unfailingly friendly with everyone he comes across.

  It’s why he does everything he can to keep things stable.

  He doesn’t know them well enough to have fake fights with. He doesn’t have the kind of closeness where teasing comes naturally, where arguments end in laughter instead of distance.

  And it’s why he was alone when they left.

  Why no one turned back to check if he was coming too.

  I turned back.

  I watched his lonely figure drift away into the crowd, his shoulders slightly hunched, the duck mask still clutched loosely in his hand. The noise of the festival swallowed him almost immediately, bright lights and laughter erasing his presence as if he’d never been there at all.

  That duck mask? What about it? He probably just chose it to be funny.

  “Sure, it could be. Or it could be a silent plea for help.”

  Ducks are always together. You almost never see one alone.

  But that’s the cruelest kind of loneliness.

  To drift silently through a crowd, moving from one small cluster to the next, joining in without really being part of anything. Every day, every season, the same pattern repeats: you slip into each group, follow their rhythm, share their space, then leave and find the next one.

  You’re welcome in all of them, but you’re never welcome enough to stay.

  And when you finally leave and glance back, a small, aching part of you wonders if it would have made any difference at all if you hadn’t joined in.

  If a gentle human tosses treats to the flock, you follow along, fitting in with the motions, tasting crumbs with everyone else. You do the same thing each season, year after year, and you notice the human continues to do this.

  But the human doesn’t see you.

  They do it for the ducks.

  Not for you.

  But for everyone.

  Do you not get tired?

  “What are you talking about?”

  Making some convoluted and exaggerated “lesson” on society and whatnot. We get it. You hate society. You’re so cool and unique for that. So tough man.

  Sys stopped.

  What is it?

  ……..He sounded like him for a second.

  Do I have something on my face? Oh duh, the mask-

  “I just know that type of person well. And I could tell instantly that Zachary was one of them. I’d figure he’d eventually be alone, trying to figure out what group of people he could try sliding in.”

  Were you one of them?

  “........Somewhat.”

  Then, why don’t you go back to him? You know, get closer? Since you’re alike and everything.

  “No, I can’t.”

  Why?

  I headed back into the crowd, disappearing into the midst of everyone.

  “He’s not the only duck in the pond.”